


(De)liberate

by Xendell



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Imprisonment, Loneliness, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xendell/pseuds/Xendell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Pact fleet falls from the sky, Eir ends up imprisoned by the Mordrem. No food, no water, only a faint hope to be rescued and the absolute worst company she could have imagined. Time is their enemy as they try to compromise - endure each other, or risk never getting out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Heart of Thorns, beware. Other than that, the expansion absolutely killed me and I had to write off all my feelings. I absolutely love filling in gaps in the timeline, so that is exactly what I did. Please review if you have any thoughts/suggestions/criticism, I want to learn and improve. Enjoy!

Sunlight glittered off the chromed armor on the Pact airships as they drifted through the air, soundlessly. Eir shielded her eyes from the blinking white as she stood on the front deck of the flagship of the fleet, Garm at her side as always, looking out over the vast jungle below. It was silent, but the air trembled with tension. Scattered on the deck were the Pact soldiers, polishing weapons and armor, or simply pacing back and forth. Anything to distract them from the fear in their guts, from the thoughts of everything they stood to lose. Some of them exchanged quick glances, nodding with stern faces, trying to look composed. Eir breathed cold air through her nose and held it in for a few moments before slowly breathing out, letting the cold calm her down. Garm gently touched his muzzle against her knee. He, too, was tense. The airships were so damned quiet.

Trahearne silently joined at her side. She looked at him, this fragile young man, once simply Sylvari, now leader of the Pact. He was paler than usual.

‘Have faith, Trahearne.’ Eir said, trying to share the burning agony in her chest. She was anxious, so anxious, her hands shaking and the hair in her neck standing on end, but she had to be strong for him. For all of them. If they did not end this, then who would?

‘I do have faith.’ Trahearne answered in a deep voice, never breaking his gaze from the horizon. ‘I have faith in all of us.’

A scream behind them startled them both, and they abruptly turned. Several Pact soldiers had sunken to their knees, yelling, screaming, clawing at their faces. When they looked up again, their eyes were red, and empty. Then the vines came.

In seconds, it was over. The airships got hit by three or more tendrils at the time, breaking them and pulling them down. Eir felt the ground sink beneath her feet and at once the silence was replaced by chaos. She tried to shield herself from flames and debris as she fell, screaming out for anyone, anything, for help. She saw images flashing by of the Pact soldiers fighting one another, Sylvari smeared in the blood of their comrades. More vines shot up, and before she hit the ground, everything went black.

.

It was Zojja’s shrill voice that first made Eir realize she was still alive, though her body felt bruised and broken in all sorts of places. She tried to open her eyes, but her left eye was swollen and wouldn’t fully cooperate. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth was overwhelming. When she tried to move, a heavy armoured boot hit her in the stomach, accompanied by a low growling voice.

‘Don’t move,’ the voice snarled. Eir coughed and spat out more blood, curling up into a ball. She held out her hand in defense, signaling she would oblige. The guard, she assumed, grunted in response, but did not kick her again. She tried to be still, not to shiver, not to think about what had happened. The cool earth was soothing on her swollen cheek. Peering through her lashes she saw the guards, or at least, their legs, patrolling over the field. There were multiple groups of three guards, each standing around their own prisoner. Some of them sat, most of them were bloody and beaten. In a corner of the field a single guard protected a suspiciously large pile of armors.

Not too far away from her, two guards were poking at their prey with the tips of their swords. She couldn’t see who it was, though she heard a deep voice cry out in pain. When the man didn’t stay quiet, the guards beat him. Eir closed her eyes as she heard the sickening _thud_ of his body hitting the moist jungle floor. The anger that swerved inside her was almost uncontrollable, the idea that her friends and comrades would be hurt and killed right here unbearable. The guard grunted something at her again, and she remained still. Foolishness would help no one. Zojja screeched again, from across the field. Eir tried to see her without moving too much, but couldn’t find her. Her heart was racing in her chest out of worry and fear for her friend. The screaming became louder and louder, then suddenly stopped, only to return in full force a few seconds later.

It was too much. Eir braced herself, then got up in one fluid motion. Though her whole body ached, she managed to elbow one guard in the side, and push another one over. She had nearly lifted herself to her full height when she was suddenly pushed down by a gigantic force in her back. It pushed her hard onto the ground, almost choking her. She couldn’t struggle, couldn’t breathe, felt like her back was just a twig, ready to snap. The guards around her looked up, to their commander: a guard riding a giant beast, which had the struggling Eir under one of its front paws. The beast growled ominously, snapping at the back of Eir’s head.

‘Everything is set, take them away!’ the guard bellowed over the field. ‘The survivors will all serve Mordremoth!’ The guards followed without question, grabbing their prisoners and dragging them away by the arms or legs. Eir heard Zojja start screeching again, and Logan was dragged right past her. She reached out for him, but he didn’t seem to see her, instead he tried to fight the guards holding his ankles. A woman near the edge of the field suddenly regained her fighting spirit and started thrashing wildly. The guards looked at her for a few moments, then one of them grabbed her head and twisted it, cruelly breaking her neck. Carelessly, the guard dragged the woman by her hair towards the edge of the field and slung her corpse on the pile of armor. Eir watched horrified as she realized it was not a pile of armor, but corpses stacked higher than the guard in front of it. Eir’s two personal guards then kneeled down, and the guard commander made his beast release her. Eir coughed as suddenly air streamed into her lungs again.

‘What about this one?’ One guard asked, unsheathing his sword with a bloodthirsty look on his face. Eir scrambled away, calling out for Logan, for Zojja, until the guards smacked her down once more.

‘Put her with the other troublemakers.’

.

It took three guards to drag Eir into the jungle, and more than an hour until she was too exhausted to fight back. She did not stop yelling until the sun touched the horizon. When night had fully fallen, Eir could only focus on her breathing, and tried not to feel the scraping and bruising of her body. Suddenly, the guards stopped. In the distance, Zojja was still screaming, though the sound was distinctly duller and further away.

‘In here.’ One guard barked, and as commanded, a small opening formed in a dome of vines. A hard shove pushed Eir into the vine cage. She felt the vines retract and close around her as the guards stepped back. The guards checked if the cage was in order , then promptly left, leaving only the sounds of the jungle as their footsteps died away. Eir slowly sank down and leaned her back against the vines. If she had ever felt agony, it had never been like this. She let out a shivering sigh.

‘Not as invincible as you once thought, hmm?’ A soft, sneering voice came from the darkness. Leaves rustled and Eir could make out a small silhouette on the other side of the cage, not even three feet away from her. Amber eyes burned in the shadow.

Eir stared at the thing as she exhaled, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure whether to be surprised, annoyed, or offended, or a combination of all three. She wanted to be alert, to be battle ready, but her broken body protested. She just sighed, narrowing her eyes to better make out the person in front of her.

‘Losing your touch? Growing old, maybe?’ The voice spoke again, a chuckle lined with the insult. A moment’s silence went by before something clicked in Eir’s mind.

‘Oh no. I know you,’ she groaned, wiping blood off her face with her arm. ‘You’re the one that poisoned Caithe. Her.. ex, whatever. What’s-your-name-again of the Nightmare Court.’

‘Well, it seems your sort still has some brains at least,’ Faolain spat. ‘Welcome to my humble living space, Stegalkin.’

‘This is bloody fantastic. Does Mordremoth not have enough prison cells for me to at least get a private one?’ Eir threw her hands in the air, in a gesture of desperation, and immediately paid for it when a fiery pain shot up her spine.

‘You expect me to know?’ Faolain hissed. Eir crossed her arms and smirked, even though she knew her partner probably couldn’t see. ‘Are you not Mordremoth’s precious pet?’

‘If I was, would I be stuck in here?’ Faolain retorted, a shrillness to her voice that had not been there before.

‘Good point.’ Eir conceded. ‘Tell you what. You stay on that side of this cage, and I won’t kill you in your sleep. You get too close, I’ll break your little neck like a twig.’

‘Duly noted.’ Faolain answered, then fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t even want to get closer. The stench is quite repulsive enough from over here.’ Faolain readjusted herself in a laying down position, but did not close her eyes. The markings on her body glowed faintly in the dark.

‘If you think being snarky is going to make me scared of you, you’re sorely mistaken, nightmare wench.’ Eir laughed. ‘Of all the things I’ve endured today, being with you might be the most annoying, but it’s definitely not the worst.’ Faolain grumbled something in response, but did not speak up again. Eir watched her settle down once more, and wondered if she could sleep. Eir slowly stretched her arms and legs, moving to a more comfortable sitting position, and folded her hands behind her head. She listened to her breathing, to her beating heart, and the throb of the slowly dulling pain in her body, and cleared her mind. She wanted to sleep, to forget, to just numb everything out. Yet every time she peered through her eyelashes, she saw orange eyes glowing in the dark.

.

Dawn came like a long awaited reunion, the light suddenly unfamiliar but so very welcome, a strong reminder of better, happier days. It felt like hours since Eir had last taken her eyes off of her unwelcome cellmate, but now she turned towards the sun. The empty sky only emphasized her loss; the Pact, the airships.. it had all gone so fast. Zojja and Logan had survived the crash, but they had been taken further into the jungle, as far as she knew. She hadn’t seen Trahearne. She hadn’t seen Garm. She’d only seen those empty-eyed Sylvari, suddenly turning on their friends. Eir turned her head back and glared at Faolain.

‘Tell me something.’ Eir growled, moving her shoulders to release the stubborn ache that had set in. ‘Every Mordrem I’ve met so far has been out to kill me without delay. How come I didn’t need to defend myself this past night I spent in a cage with one?’ Eir’s brows furrowed into a scowl, as she watched Faolain’s expression go from surprise to rage.

‘Because I am _not_ a Mordrem!’ Faolain hissed. ‘How _dare_ you compare me to-‘

‘Alright, so,’ Eir interrupted her, aggravating Faolain even further, ‘if you’re not a Mordrem, then _what are you_?’

‘I am Sylvari!’ Faolain screeched, ‘And I don’t need the likes of you questioning my identity when I can’t even tell my own thoughts from his!’ She gasped, then looked away, biting her lip hard. Eir’s eyes narrowed, and she felt her core muscles tense, ready to fight.

‘So it does affect you.’ Eir said, slowly. Faolain rubbed her own upper arms in a nervous gesture, and eventually nodded.

‘Of course it does have an effect on me. I, my people, we have...’ Faolain sought for words, ‘we have a connection to the Dragon. At first, it was just whispering, in the back of my mind, but here,’ she sighed, ‘here it’s like a voice that overpowers my own at times. Gnawing at me. Constantly.’

‘So you’re saying that Mordremoth can control your thoughts?’ Eir asked, trying to make sense of the events on the airships the previous day. ‘That he could control your actions?’

‘Yes, though it does not affect us all equally. Some of my Courtiers were much more drawn to his call than others. More than I was.’ Faolain stared hard at her hands. The silence fell heavy over them both. Eir slowly relaxed as she watched Faolain pull her knees up to her chin and hide her face in shame. She had trusted Trahearne. That didn’t mean she had to trust all Sylvari, but at least they weren’t all completely turned. Yet.

‘I, uh, had a Dragon mess with my mind once,’ Eir awkwardly confessed, ‘Glint, in fact. I’m sure it’s not the same, but that was very unpleasant. I feel for you.’ She slumped down, not really sure where she’d been going with this. Faolain glanced back at the Norn, her expression mostly hidden.

‘What did it do? What did it feel like, I mean,’ Faolain asked quietly. Eir shrugged as she recalled the journey to Glint’s lair, and the illusions they had to unravel.

‘It made me fight with my friends, the people I trusted most. It made me hate them, despise them without reason. I even hated Caithe, back then.’ Eir fell silent once more. She felt uneasy by Faolain’s piercing stare, unable to determine whether the woman was angry or sad. When Faolain broke the silence, she had removed all emotion from her voice.

‘You and Caithe got along then.’

‘Yes,’ Eir grinned smugly, and opened her mouth to add “very much so”, but was cut off by Faolain’s sudden snarl. ‘Guards! Keep quiet!’

Faolain crouched, and silently backed away from the approaching guards as far as the cell would allow. Two Mordrem guards approached, their faces strangely similar to what a twisted nightmare of a Sylvari would look like. Eir held her breath as they approached, for reasons unknown to her, but she did not feel like tempting fate. The guards walked around the cell, scouted the perimeter, jabbed at some of the other cells, then signaled something in the distance. Not much later, a cell opened, and a female charr was dragged off by two more guards. She looked starved and exhausted, barely alive enough to whine as the guards dragged her further into the jungle. It wasn’t until the guards had all disappeared into the foliage that Faolain audibly exhaled.

‘Only one.. why did they take only one this time?’ she muttered, peering through the slits between vines, trying to see if there were any other guards around.

‘Where are they taking them?’ Eir asked, lifting herself a little so she could also look outside. ‘What do you mean, only one?’

‘They take them to the Blighting Trees. Doesn’t matter if they’re alive or dead, because Mordremoth.. changes them.’ Faolain frantically moved along the cell wall, trying to find a good vantage point. ‘Are they really gone?’

Eir sat back down, observing the Sylvari quietly. There was a nervousness in Faolain that she hadn’t seen before. The shaking hands, the breaking voice. Her anxiety was contagious, but it was useless to waste more energy on it. Eir grunted in annoyance and then janked the Sylvari down by her collar, pulling her down in a sitting position.

‘Easy now,’ Eir hushed her, ‘staring outside is not going to help. It’s not like you can _go_ anywhere,’ she added, with a little shrug of her shoulders. ‘Or can you?’

Faolain’s brows curled up and she shook her head sadly. ‘No. The vines create a magical barrier, otherwise I would have portaled out of here first chance I got.’ She looked Eir straight in the eyes, with a sudden childish sincerity, that hadn’t been there before. ‘I just thought, someone should have come for me by now? I thought they’d be here?’ Faolain remained still, but she’d still sneak glances outside the cell, even though there was nothing there. Eir looked back at her, concerned. A voice in the back of her mind, that she did not want to hear, suggested she might be looking at her own future. Exhausted, abused, losing it. If she stayed here long enough, who knows what sort of ideas she’d get.

‘Who is looking for you?’ Eir asked. Her voice was low, genuine. For a moment, she really felt bad for the Sylvari. And for herself, if this was to be her fate.

‘First I thought my Courtiers, who were with me, would come. But they are not here, I haven’t seen them in any of the cells, either. So…’ Faolain’s voice drifted off, and for a moment she seemed lost in thought. Then she looked down at herself, back to the Norn, and suddenly shifted back to the other side of the cell, putting as much distance between them as possible. ‘Not that it matters.’

‘You are waiting for Caithe, aren’t you?’ Eir asked quietly. She wondered whether discussing this was a wise decision, considering their being locked up together, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from asking. She reminded herself of the countless times she had been together with Caithe, simply drawing or traveling or warming by the fire, when Caithe had worn this far-off stare. Whenever Eir’d asked about it, Caithe had always avoided the question. Was there really still something between Caithe and this woman before her? Had, whatever it was, left such deep marks on them, even after all these years? Caithe had never spoken well of Faolain. Not once had she shared a happy memory of them, only the pain, and only by rare occasion.

‘Caithe’ll be here eventually.’ Faolain whispered. ‘She _has to_.’

‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ Eir sighed, shaking her head. ‘If I know Caithe, coming here for you is the exact opposite of what she would do. Honestly, she’d move on with someone else, and be all the happier for it.’ Eir smirked a little as Faolain slowly turned her head, realization dawning on her. ‘And I’m pretty sure I know Caithe quite well.’

‘What are you implying-‘ Faolain sputtered, enraged. Eir’s smirk just grew larger.

‘Exactly what you think.’ ‘Did _you_ -?’ ‘Oh, yes.’

Faolain’s eyes had grown wide in shock, she was shaking her head and staring at the Norn. ‘That is absolutely _vile!’_ She finally exclaimed, disbelief making room for envy. ‘She could never love you!’

‘I’m not saying she did.’ Eir reveled in her victory, however small. It wouldn’t be sung about at the Moot in Hoelbrak, but by the Spirits, it was satisfying. ‘I’m just saying the chances that she’ll be looking for her lost lover and by that mean _you,_ are extremely slim.’

‘If my magic wasn’t blocked you would be in unimaginable pain right now,’ Faolain positively hissed at her, fists trembling in anger. ‘I’d be making more progress getting out of here listening to that Elder Dragon than this nonsense.’ Faolain cried out, hitting her fists against the vines. The vines were obviously unbothered by her assault, and she slumped and fell onto her back, spreading out her arms on the ground, letting out a frustrated grunt. ‘I should never have left home.’

‘How long have you been imprisoned here, Faolain?’ Eir asked, trying to keep a neutral tone, though she couldn’t completely wipe the smirk off her face.

‘Four days. Feels like eternity. Why?’ Faolain moaned, not even bothering to look up.

‘Just making a rough estimate as to when I’ll be as desperate as you are.’

.

The hours passed in silence. Eir had tried to slumber, but fear and concern made it impossible to sleep even without the fact a now very hostile Sylvari lurked not three feet away from her. Eventually the exhaustion would take its toll, she knew, the question was merely who would give in first.

‘I’m parched,’ Eir sighed, rubbing her throat. ‘How’d you get water these past days?’ Faolain rolled away from Eir, curling up on her side and turning her back towards the Norn.

‘Hope it rains,’ she grunted, ‘or maybe you should try biting a vine and choking on a thorn while you’re at it.’

‘Very funny.’

.

Eir had watched the sun sink below the horizon, marking the end of the second day of her imprisonment. She felt a pang of guilt for admitting it, but Faolain had been right: it did feel like an eternity. She’d slumped against the vines in her corner of the cell, keeping a watchful eye on the Sylvari while making herself as comfortable as reasonably possible. Her wounds had started to bruise badly, but most of the ache and soreness was gone. Still, she was in bad shape. If anything, she needed to be as careful as possible, and avoid any fights she could, until she could visit a healer. If she would ever visit a healer again. While the Dragon posed a more direct threat, now defeating it seemed like such a far-off goal. It would be a terribly bad ending to her legend to die of starvation in a tiny vine cell. It would also be agonizing. Better to go out in a blaze of glory, than this. Everything was better than this.

Faolain stirred on her side of the cell, mumbling to herself. Her faint glow slowly increased to a brighter light, and she curled up with stiff, jerky movements. Eir heard her breathing falter, then shiver, then falter again. The spasms became increasingly worse, and now Eir could make out some of the words.

‘No.. I will…free….never serve…no… _no….’_

She watched her for a moment more, weighing her options. If the Sylvari didn’t fight, Eir could probably choke her even despite her own injuries. If Mordremoth was currently channeling his power through Faolain, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

Of all the incredibly stupid things Eir had done, she was positive this might have been an absolute record. The only logical explanation she gave herself was that doing nothing felt worse than this. She got up, walked over and kneeled next to the Sylvari, scooping her up. Faolain clung to her, nails digging into her skin. Eir was horrified to note that Faolain’s eyes were glowing a flickering red, like the eyes of the Sylvari on the Pact airship had done. She swallowed thickly, briefly considering getting a strangle-hold on the half-unconscious Sylvari. However when Faolain’s teeth began to chatter and her mumbling began to pitch into a whine, she pulled her closer instead.

‘You can fight this. Get him out of your head, Faolain.’ Eir said, her voice soft yet stern. ‘Breathe with me. Slowly. Gain control.’ The Sylvari in her arms looked away, her muscles strained, claws still digging into Eir. ‘Come on, you worthless vegetable. Breathe. For both our sakes.’

Faolain’s head whipped back and forth, her eyes unseeing. She cried out again, shaking her head, gasping for a moment until the possession returned like whiplash. Eir cursed under her breath, quickly turning the Sylvari over and pressing her down onto the ground, making sure to keep a firm hold on her arms. ‘No, Spirits, I told you to fight! Fight it so we can get out of here. I did not endure all this time with you just so you can waste away in front of me now! Do it for Caithe! Damn it!’

Eir felt the Sylvari go limp in her grasp. Carefully, she turned her over, and breathed in relief to see the eerie glow gone from her eyes, darkness surrounding them once more. Faolain slowly looked up at the Norn’s silhouette, just staring at her in absolute disbelief. Eir sat down next to her, sighing deeply, not sure whether to be amazed, disappointed, or relieved. Either way it had been incredibly dangerous. Despite that Eir smiled when she heard a broken sounding whispered ‘Thank you’. She could have sworn Faolain was crying, but did not ask.

.

Dawn came quickly as Eir drifted in and out of sleep for the last couple hours of darkness. Faolain slept soundlessly next to her, her cheek resting on the Norn’s lower leg. As Eir glanced at her, she started to notice the signs of exhaustion she’d sometimes seen on Caithe too. The pale face, the rims of leaves drying out and chipping, the crackled, dry skin on fingers and lips. It was a painful reminder that she wasn’t in the best shape herself. There was still no water, and her throat had started to taste like blood and feel like sandpaper. She was hungry too, the gnawing, painful kind of hunger she’d known from long winters in the Shiverpeaks. She noticed that her cuts and bruises didn’t really heal as they normally would, and she was getting stiff and sore from the lack of movement. Carefully brushing the sleeping Sylvari off her, Eir stood and stretched her back. She could only walk a few steps before she had to turn, but it had to do. Faolain had fluttered awake, but did not stir. She sighed quietly.

Eir rolled her eyes. ‘If you don’t want me to mention yesterday, fine,’ she snarled, ‘but your defeated attitude is really getting on my nerves.’ Faolain huffed in response, narrowing her eyes at Eir. ‘I am not defeated. I am simply saving my energy for my rescue today.’

‘And what makes you so sure today’s the day?’ Eir barked in laughter. Faolain did not immediately respond, instead looked longingly outside the cell. Eir placed her hands in her sides in a provoking, defiant stance.

‘Let’s review your options, shall we?’ she said, in a mocking cheerful tone. ‘First you betrayed your people, so any Dreamers are out. Then you literally poisoned your relationship, so Caithe’s out too. Your alleged friends, who were _here,_ didn’t even bother-‘

‘If you’re going to sum up all the crimes I committed,’ Faolain bitterly interrupted, ‘don’t forget to add that I have been consciously pouring Nightmare into the Dream for years. And that one time I massacred an entire centaur tribe for no reason. Oh, and right, I drove my sister to desperation so Caithe had to kill her too. Anything else?’

Eir’s eyed widened in shock, and for a moment she just stared at the woman splayed out on the ground before her. She bent to sit down, her expression puzzled, disbelieving. ‘You really screwed up, you know.’ Eir muttered as she folded her legs under her.

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Faolain snapped back.

‘Do you regret it?’ Eir tentatively asked. It felt as if the air around her had suddenly become colder.

‘No, I don’t,’ Faolain started, overthinking each word. ‘It all seemed like… like it was a good idea at the time. Or necessary, at the least.’

‘Necessary for what?’ Eir didn’t know why she felt fascinated as well as horrified.

‘To be free,’ Faolain looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. ‘I just wanted everyone to stay out of my damned business. To go where I pleased.’ She went quiet for a moment. ‘So I abandoned the Pale Mother to get away from her clutches. I dragged others into Nightmare to gain the power to remain free. I killed so no one would stand between me and Caithe, so we could have a life together.’

Eir was silent. Faolain stared hard at the ceiling, chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, she rolled her eyes.

‘What about you, then,’ she asked, finally looking at Eir, ‘don’t tell me you’ve been a perfect princess all your life.’

Eir, despite everything, barked a short laugh. ‘No, I haven’t. But I haven’t done half as much as you did, and I’m almost three times your age.’ Silence fell between them once more. Faolain simply raised one brow questioningly. Eir huffed.

‘Fine,’ she said, contemplating what to say, ‘once I almost killed an important minion of Jormag. Because of that, it was angered, covering the entirety of Hoelbrak in a terrible snowstorm. People died.’ She paused. The memory was painful, but somehow saying it like this, made her feel lighter. ‘I also made a wrong call when we fought Kralkatorrik. I was in charge, and because of me we lost a good friend and a powerful ally, as well as the battle.’ She glanced over at Faolain, who looked at her with a curious expression. Eir stared at her hands, not ready to be judged just yet.

‘After that, it took me years to reconcile with the people who had once been my closest friends. I shut them out of my life, even though they needed me. We all needed each other.’ Eir looked back at Faolain, inadvertently bracing herself, even though she did not much value the Sylvari’s opinion. Faolain however just looked at her, unimpressed. Eir grunted in annoyance.

‘I also had a son, that I abandoned when he was little, so I could forge my own legend.’ The silence was heavier, after that. Eir exhaled slowly, somehow feeling the burden of her guilt pressing a little less heavy on her shoulders. To Eir’s surprise, the Sylvari nodded slowly.

‘That’s what I mean,’ Faolain quietly spoke, ‘looking back on it now, it sounds like such a terrible thing. You wouldn’t abandon your son if someone offered you a choice like this. But at the time…,’ her voice drifted off as she looked at Eir. The Norn grimaced, but then nodded.

‘Yes, at the time, I just needed to be free.’


	2. Chapter 2

'Hey, look,' Eir laughed, 'I found a relative of yours!' She held up a broken branch, moist and covered in moss. To Faolain it was a reasonably sized stick, for Eir it was about the size of her hand.

'That's a twig,' Faolain sighed, too exhausted to be offended. 'Unless you're planning on busting us out of here with that, I'm not interested.'

'You're going to be interested.' Eir smiled, wiping the soil in front of her, smoothing it. 'Name me any creature.'

'Mordremoth.' Faolain flatly answered, giving Eir a most displeased look. Eir rolled her eyes.

'I don't know what he looks like. Come on, work with me here.'

'Why do you want me to name a creature?'

'I'll draw it for you!' Eir smiled. She couldn't call it a purpose, but it was definitely refreshing to be able to think about something for a bit. Get her thoughts off the never ending dullness of imprisonment.

'Fine,' Faolain said, sounding more like an upset teenager than she intended. 'Why don't you draw...' she tapped her lip with a finger as she thought, 'a spider.' Eir nodded.

'Nice one. Let's see,' she took the pointy end of the twig and made a few quick strokes in the soil. Happy with the effect, she started creating the body of the spider, then adding the eyes, the palps, the tiny details on all its legs. While she was drawing, she saw Faolain creep closer, watching with wide eyes. After a while, Eir leaned back and placed the stick next to her.

'There, all done.' She presented the drawing with a sweeping gesture, inviting Faolain to look closer. Faolain turned her head as she stared at it.

'That is actually really good,' she mused as she sat down next to Eir to see the drawing properly. 'It looks so real! Like it just came crawling out of the jungle.'

'Thanks.' Eir said, then glanced over her shoulder to see Faolain staring up at her excitedly. 'You want to see something else?'

'Yes.'

'Okay,' Eir answered simply, a little surprised by her cellmate's sudden enthusiasm. She started wiping away the spider drawing, only to be startled by a cry from Faolain.

'No! Oh, you destroyed my spider.' Faolain pouted at the dusty soil where the spider had been. Eir patted her on the shoulder, crumbling little specks of earth on the Sylvari.

'Art is fleeting. Temporary. That's how it goes,' she shrugged. 'Back at home, I made statues. Stone, wood, whatever materials you could think of. And I'm talking, bigger than lifesize, you know.' She thought of home, of the Shiverpeaks for a moment, but then resolutely shook the thought from her mind. 'But even those stone statues crumble over time.'

'It's a shame,' Faolain remarked. Eir smiled at her. 'Yeah.'

'Did you make statues of spiders?'

'Not as of yet,' Eir grinned. 'I made statues of people. Important people, rich people, foolish people. I always managed to get their personalities in there, to make the person shine through the stone.' Eir leaned her chin on her palm, reminiscing about better days. Faolain looked at Eir intently, then tilted her head down to the soil again.

'Draw me something else.'

Eir thought for a moment. Then, as if her hand had a mind of its own, she picked up the stick and moved it across the soil. Every time she brought it down, painting a swooping curve or a sharp angle, the image became clearer. Resolute movements became bold, deep lines, soft caresses became details and shadows. Faolain watched breathlessly as Eir worked. Finally, Eir created a face with just a few well placed lines, and detailed a set of almond shaped eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips.

'Oh!' Eir heard Faolain gasp quietly. The Sylvari leaned forward, gingerly touching the soil. 'It's Caithe..'

'Let me finish it,' Eir said, gently bringing Faolain's hands away from the drawing. Carefully, she added in the last details of Caithe's face, then put the stick away under her knee. 'There. Pretty spot on, don't you think?'

'Yes, it looks just like her.' Faolain's expression suddenly turned dark, 'She looks happy.'

'Is that a bad thing?' Eir sounded genuinely surprised. As she glanced at the drawing, she could think of many moments when Caithe had looked like this, with a healthy glow on her cheeks and a smile on her face. Of course there had been many bad times as well, but this was the way she remembered Caithe the most. The way she wanted to remember Caithe.

'No, it's good,' Faolain shook her head, then reached out for the drawing again. Her brows turned up but her eyes were completely cold. 'It's just that it must have been twenty years ago that she last looked at me like that.' Faolain's voice became soft and almost died out completely when she finished her sentence. With a fingertip, she gently followed the line that made up Caithe's cheek. Eir's eyes turned soft for a moment, her hands clasping together loosely.

'Wouldn't it be better if you just let go?' Eir pondered. She felt the Sylvari slump next to her.

'I can't ever let her go,' Faolain breathed. 'She was on my mind the moment I first awoke. She will be the last thing I ever see when the end comes.'

'That would be romantic if it wasn't so darn creepy,' Eir nodded. Now it was Faolain's turn to shrug.

'I suppose it is a Sylvari thing.'

'Alright then,' Eir said, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips in a skeptical expression. 'It's a Sylvari thing.'

'Don't wipe it away just yet,' Faolain gestured at the drawing, then adjusted herself against the Norn, leaning her cheek against Eir's arm. 'I want to look at her a little longer.'

.

'Why is it still so warm, even though the sun is going down?' Eir groaned, an arm slung carelessly over her eyes. She laid splayed out, her back leaning against the vines. Her legs, completely stretched out, almost reached the other end of the cage. Her tongue was dry and painful, her lungs faintly aching. She would murder for a drop of water, let alone for a mug of ale.

'I can't believe I'm going to ask you this.' Faolain suddenly croaked next to her. Eir opened one eye to look at her and grunted in response, 'what.'

'Can I lick your sweat?' Faolain's voice was completely monotonous. Eir first raised her eyebrows in surprise, then suddenly laughed a hoarse and loud laugh. 'Absolutely not.'

Faolain shot up, fists clenched. 'But I'm so thirsty! It's ingenious!'

'The answer is no.' 'But-' 'I said _no._ '

Both were silent for a moment. Then Eir snickered to herself. 'That's nasty.'

Faolain agreed.

.

As time progressed, the two became more and more silent. Faolain simply tried to focus on her breathing, staring into nothingness. Eir found solace in thinking of the faces of the people she missed most.

'I keep on thinking that I hear people in the distance,' Faolain whispered without looking up. 'I keep on thinking that I saw Caithe sneak by.'

'That's the beginning of the end,' Eir replied coldly. 'We're running out of time. _And_ you're going mad.'

'When we get out of here,' Faolain closed her eyes and smiled, conveniently ignoring Eir's remark, 'what is the first thing you are going to do?'

'Don't you mean _if-_ ' Eir started, but Faolain shook her head. 'Play the game, Stegalkin.'

'Eir.'

Faolain raised an eyebrow questioningly, then nonchalantly corrected herself. 'Play the game, Eir.'

'Alright,' Eir crossed her arms. 'Actually, it's an easy one. First, I'm going to hug my son and tell him I love him. And then I'm going to bring Mordremoth down.' Eir thought for a moment, then decided she was happy with that answer. 'What about you?'

'I'm getting out of here,' Faolain answered. 'I'm going as far as I can, no matter what it takes. Maybe I'll go Soundless for a little while. Get the voices out of my head.' Both of them pondered their fantasies for a few moments.

'I've been meaning to ask,' Faolain gave Eir a sideways glance, 'what is it like having a son?'

'Imagine squeezing out an orange through your nose.' Eir flatly stated. Faolain's eyes went wide, then she shook her head intensely. 'Not that part!' Faolain gave Eir an awkward look as she processed the statement. 'I mean living, knowing that he is your son. That you are connected like that.'

'Ah,' Eir sighed, suddenly a little melancholic. 'I'm not sure I am the right person to ask. It is probably different if you don't, you know. If you actually raise your own kid.' She took a deep breath, then continued. 'Now that I have him back, though... it is simultaneously the best and the worst thing in the world. I am so proud of him, and I want to show him off to the entire planet, while I'm also worried sick, and want to protect him from the entire planet.'

'Would you feel the same way if you loved someone that was not your son?' Faolain seemed confused.

'There are different kinds of love. There's passionate love, that you share with someone you meet, and that you fall in love with. And there's love that is for family and friends. They are similar, but not the same.'

'How so?'

'The love I have for my family, for my friends, runs very deep. It's in everything I do. But the love I have for Braham? It's boundless. I would die for him.' Eir chewed on her lip, wondering if she'd said too much. Faolain looked at her hands, nodding slowly. 'I think I understand.'

'Sometimes I forget your people are basically still children,' Eir smiled. 'Children with a whole lot of responsibility and no parents.'

'Like Braham.' Faolain remarked. Eir's gaze turned sour.

'Well, if it's any solace, Braham turned out just fine. All's not lost for you yet.'

.

'It's already dawn and the guards have not yet come back.' Faolain stood at the front of the cage, a little shakily, peering through the vines. 'It's like something's wrong.'

'Wrong for them or for us?' Eir asked, carefully standing up. The exhaustion was definitely taking its toll, stars danced in front of her eyes as she lifted herself to her full height. She quickly gripped the vines to steady herself, and was glad when the Sylvari didn't seem to notice.

'I don't know. I just know that when I just got here, the guards came every day and took a couple people.' Faolain tiptoed to see better. 'I never thought I'd actually last this long.'

Eir suddenly gestured for her to be silent, and then pointed at her ear. Faolain nodded and listened intently. The sounds of battle were faint, but they were there. A moment passed in which realization dawned on them and then the excitement set in, fatigue, thirst and hunger suddenly forgotten.

'You hear that too, right?'

'Yes! Someone is slaughtering the Mordrem guard!'

'Are they coming this way?'

'I think so! Spirits, could it be Braham?'

'It could be Queen Jenna for all I care, as long as we get out of here.'

'Agreed, but still.'

'Look, look, do you see them? There, in the distance! Wait, is that Canach?'

'By Wolf, it is Braham! He's come looking for me!'

'As if all of this wasn't humiliating enough without Canach being here to see it.'

'Quit whining, you're getting out of here too, Faolain.'

'Canach being there could actually be a huge problem for me...'

'Don't you worry,' Eir smiled, 'we are getting out. Both of us. And we're never going back.'


End file.
